8:00 PM, 22nd March, 2001
Well, as I write this, our cousins across the sea are still flopping about like a bunch of three-headed walruses trying to figure out who is their President. So it is opportune to look at how all this came about. The Hollywood History Masters have excelled themselves on this one. (And I thought U571 was about as bad as it gets!). Well, hold onto your seat-belts girls, you are in for a ride! Hero Gibson (how could you, Mel!), trying to remain neutral in 'the great fight' between the saintly "God's chosen" and the slovenly, stupid and ever-so-evil red coats (played in classic "card-board cut-out" style by a group of Brit actors who one assumes MUST have been VERY well paid to so disgrace old Blighty), is finally goaded into action. After cleaning up a platoon of 'red lobsters' single-handedly in one of filmdom's more grotesquely violent scenes, he then proceeds to win the War of Independence in a similar fashion. Derivative junk, which at its low point portrays the Brits as an 18th-century version of Schutz-Staffel storm troopers (complete with burning alive of innocents in a locked Church), the film never inspires but often bores with its hackneyed and formulaic twaddle.